The Mystery of the Black Notebook
by Asp Pentacle97
Summary: One of the greatest mysteries of the host club is revealed: what is in Kyoya's black notebook.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own OHSHC. If I did, I would be spending my time committing nefarious acts with the guys, not writing about them.

**A/N:** This is another one of those plotbunnies that suddenly attacked me. Another one that is Kyoya/Haruhi if you squint at it. Kinda Kyoya/Tamaki, but again only if you squit. Please enjoy.

The host club was full of mysteries: Why does the room have all these extra oddities, such as a suspended steal cage, when it is supposed to be a music room? How does Renge keep following them everywhere? How does the door to the creepy Black Magic clubroom keep appearing and disappearing? But there seem trivial compared to the biggest mystery of all: What is Kyoya always writing in that black book of his?

The twins were convinced that it held his plans for world domination. Honey maintained that it was a last of the snacks he would later buy for the club, particularly cake. Mori was silent on the subject, while Tamaki hypothesized that Kyoya kept a day-to-day log of everything bad any of them did, especially during club hours.

The host club members weren't the only ones intrigued by the little black book. Rumors flew throughout the entire school, each person standing fast by their theory, while the actual book itself had become something of a legend, infamous in its own right.

That was why Haruhi, when she came back into the music room one day to grab her forgotten textbook, was shocked to find it lying on the table, completely alone. Haruhi glanced around, sure Kyoya was standing somewhere nearby. But the room was empty.

Haruhi approached it cautiously, as if worried that it was going to explode or something. Then she shook her head, reprimanding herself for being so foolish. It was just a plain, black, leather-bound notebook, albeit high quality, but it was still just a notebook. Clearly Kyoya had forgotten it here, just as she had forgotten her textbook.

Making up her mind, Haruhi grabbed the aforementioned renegade textbook, then scooped the black book up in her arms before rushing out of the music room, hoping she would catch Kyoya before he left for the day. She really didn't want to walk all the way to the Ootori mansion this late in the day. She still had chores she had to do when she got home.

"Kyoya-senpai!" Haruhi called when she spotted a familiar figure walking towards the front doors, her voice tinged with relief. Kyoya stopped and turned, surprised at hearing his name called in what he thought was a deserted hallway.

"Yes, Haruhi?" he asked, his voice as cool as ever, though his eyebrows were scrunched slightly in confusion. "Can I help you?"

"You left this in the clubroom," Haruhi said, walking up to him and holding out the black book. "I'm just glad I caught you before you left for the day." Kyoya looked at the block book in surprise before reaching out and taking it.

"Thank you," he murmured, turning it on its side and inspecting it before giving Haruhi a sharp look. "You didn't open it."

"Of course not," Haruhi said, perplexed by the statement. "It's yours. I don't nose through things that don't belong to me."

Kyoya continued to study her for a moment. But then a small smile, one of the real ones that are so rare, curved his lips, softening his entire face. Haruhi couldn't help but smile in return, warmed by the fact that the uptight host allowed her to see past his armor, even if only for a few moments.

"Thank you," Kyoya said, inclining his head. "Good day." With that he turned around and strode away, leaving Haruhi standing there, slightly confused.

The next day Haruhi was exiting the music room when she saw the black book sitting on the floor a few yards away from the door. Rolling her eyes and grumbling to herself about careless people (thought she had never thought that she would ever call Kyoya "careless"), Haruhi stooped down and picked up the book. Shaking her head, she started to jog down the halls, eyes searching for the black-haired host. She found him exiting one of the classrooms.

"Kyoya-senpai!" she said, panting slightly from her brisk pace. "You dropped this outside the classroom. Are you feeling okay? It's not like you to be this forgetful."

"Yes, Haruhi, I'm feeling fine," Kyoya replied, accepting the notebook with a small smile, glancing at the edge of it. He then looked back at her, eyebrows raised.

"You didn't open it," he said, the smile widening ever so slightly.

"We've been over this, senpai," Haruhi said, rolling her eyes at him. "I don't snoop."

"Aren't you curious about what's in it?" Kyoya asked, his voice mild, though that small smile still lingered.

"Of course I am," Haruhi replied, shrugging her shoulders. "But it's yours and whatever is in it is obviously private, so…" Haruhi trailed off, shrugging again.

"So you resisted temptation not once, but twice," Kyoya said, smiling that secret smile of his. "That's quite impressive, Haruhi. And most interesting." And with that he turned and walked away, leaving Haruhi completely baffled by his cryptic remarks.

Haruhi almost wasn't surprised when the next day, as she went to leave the music room, she saw the black book leaning innocently up against the wall next to the door. She threw her hands up in despair.

"Seriously?" she demanded, irritated as she picked up the book. "What does he think I am, his maid? He better be more careful or I'm going to shove this up his ass so he stops misplacing it!"

"Now that," said a cool voice from off to her left, "would be very uncomfortable." Haruhi turned to see Kyoya step out of the changing room, hands tucked casually in his pockets.

"What were you doing back there?" Haruhi asked, puzzled as to why the book would be against the wall if Kyoya was still in the room, seeing as he almost always kept it with him. Haruhi bet he even slept with it at his side.

"Waiting for you, of course," Kyoya replied calmly, stopping just in front of her, that secretive smile back on his face.

"Why?" Haruhi asked, completely nonplus.

"Come on, Haruhi," Kyoya cajoled, shaking his head at her. "I thought you were supposed to be intelligent. Put the pieces together." Haruhi looked at him, torn between anger and confusion. Then all the pieces fell into place.

"You set me up," she accused, glaring at the tall youth in front of her. "You left the notebook for me to find. But why?"

"I only set you up those last two times," Kyoya corrected, smirking at the irritated girl. "I actually legitimately forgot it the first time. As to why, well, I was intrigued when I realized you didn't look through it the first time you found it. I wanted to see if that was just a fluke or not, so I 'dropped' it outside the door. Imagine my glee when you returned it unopened a second time. So I decided to give you one final test, which I'm pleased to say you passed. Congratulations. You win." With that, Kyoya held out the notebook, which Haruhi numbly took.

"I don't understand," she said, confused by the last segment of his statement.

"You passed my test," Kyoya said simply, walking over and sitting on one of the couches, eyes fixed on Haruhi. "And now this is your reward: you have my permission to look in the notebook."

Haruhi looked at him, shocked. Kyoya nodded his head, indicating he was serious. Haruhi walked over and took a seat across from him. Then, hesitantly, she opened the book.

The first page held a drawing of a young woman Haruhi assumed was Kyoya's sister. She was sitting on a couch, holding up a shirt, laughing. The drawing was done in pencil, with what looked like ebony pencil adding shading. Mouth agape, Haruhi turned to the next page.

A middle-school Tamaki stared up at her, his blue eyes alight with laughter. The drawing was exceptional, so lifelike that Haruhi almost mistook it for a photograph. Kyoya had painted this one, capturing the gold of Tamaki's hair and the brilliant blue of his eyes.

Picture after picture slid through Haruhi's vision. Some were rough sketches done in pencil, others detailed works down with ebony pencil and given color. All of the host club members where present, but Tamaki was one of Kyoya's prime subjects. Tamaki sitting, Tamaki standing, laughing, dancing, reading, writing, studying, pouting… It was all there, usually in color, as if Kyoya could not bear to leave him in muted shades of black and grey.

It surprised Haruhi slightly when she saw herself appear in his drawings. The first one was of her stepping out of the changing room in her new Ouran uniform. Tamaki was still the most frequent subject, with the other hosts scattered in, but Haruhi began to notice that she was appearing more and more. Soon she and Tamaki seemed to be about even for appearances.

Haruhi turned another page and couldn't help but gasp in shock. The drawing was of her in the pink dress she wore to dinner when they were at the beach, flat on her back on some kind of cloth. Haruhi realized that she was looking at herself through Kyoya's eyes when he had pinned her on the bed that night in an attempt to open her eyes. She gazed at the picture for a long time. The her in the picture looked attractive, her eyes big and thoughtful, brimming with intelligence and affection. Haruhi looked from the book to the youth in front of her for the first time.

Kyoya was watching her intently, gauging her every reaction. Haruhi tried to figure out what he was thinking, but his face was as unreadable as always. Taking a deep breath, Haruhi flipped the page, continuing her perusal of the book.

The last drawing was of the entire host club, minus Kyoya. Haruhi recognized it from when they had all sat down and watched a movie together. Haruhi was sitting on the couch, Hikaru on her right and Kaoru on her left. Tamaki was sitting on a "commoner's chair" (AKA a cushion), leaning back against Haruhi's legs. Mori sat to the left of Karou in a comfortable chair that was angled slightly so that his legs stretched out and touched Kaoru's knees and Tamaki's feet. Honey was curled up in his lap, head resting on Mori's strong shoulder. Haruhi could practically see the affection and love radiating off the painted figures. On the very edge of the paper, in miniscule handwriting, Kyoya had written two words: "My Family."

"Kyoya," Haruhi whispered, forgetting for a moment all formality. "These are beautiful." Haruhi hesitantly reached out and gently touched the last image, half-convinced it wasn't real.

"Thank you," Kyoya replied quietly. "I'm glad you liked them."

"Why have you hidden these from us?" Haruhi asked, looking up and fixing Kyoya with her penetration gaze. "Do you know how much these would mean to everyone, Tamaki especially?"

"Because I'm not ready," Kyoya said, smiling ruefully. "I'm not ready to let down my walls and let those idiots see how much they've come to mean to me."

"So why let me see them?" Haruhi prodded. Kyoya's smile softened slightly.

"Because you seem to be the exception to every rule," he replied, reaching out as if to touch her knew, but stopped himself. "You've conquered Tamaki's fear of non-familial love, thought he hasn't realized it yet. You've entered the twin's world, a feat I deemed impossible. You've looked past Mori's silence into what he's feeling and taught him that he can use his skills not only for attacking but protection as well. You've helped Honey further realize that no one should ever be ashamed of who they are and that it's okay to be different. And as for me, well, you seem to be able to see the parts of me that I thought were long dead."

"Senpai," Haruhi stuttered, feeling completely shocked by his little speech. "Senpai, you-you-you make it sound like I'm some great, understanding therapist or something. I'm not that great. I'm just… me."

"And that," Kyoya said, standing and gently taking the book from her, "is what makes you so precious to all of us."

Haruhi felt a light touch of lips to the top of her head and then he was gone, taking his enchanting pictures with him. Haruhi say on the couch, still too shocked to move, as she tried to comprehend all she had learned today.


End file.
